


Desperation

by captainellie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bathing/Washing, Chocolate Box Treat, Coming in from the cold, F/M, Female Alpha, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knotting, Male Omega, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Non-Linear Narrative, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Shapeshifting, Sharing a Bed, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainellie/pseuds/captainellie
Summary: They thought she was beaten down, drugged into stillness. They did not expect her to fight. They did not expect her to scramble over the fence, moving faster when the barb wire tore her open. They did not expect her to shift and run.They did not understand how desperate she was to be free.
Relationships: Feral Female Alpha Werewolf/Male Omega Living Alone in an Idyllic Woodland Cottage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frozensea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensea/gifts).



Every step was agony, but she ran. Her lungs burned, ribs were broken, her pads worn raw, bloody pawprints in the snow marked her path, but she ran. She heard nothing behind her, saw nothing ahead, just shadows and brambles tearing at her fur and snowflakes falling thick and hard enough they stung, but she ran.

The storm blew strong and she ran fast. She was three feet into the clearing before she knew she broke out of the forest. The wind batted at her, spinning snow up from the ground until she was surrounded.

It died for a moment, and she smelled something beyond the storm. Meat. She smelled meat, and she sank to her belly in the snow, slinked forward as quiet and careful as she could.

Bright light fell over her. She startled away, yelped when her broken ribs ground together. The meat smell was stronger, but there’s something else with it, too. She didn’t know what. All she knew was hunger and thirst and pain.

A low sound, rising and falling. Her eyes cleared, and she could see into the light. There was no storm inside. There was warm air, and meat, and then there was a pile just inside the -- her brain twisted. She didn’t know what it was.

She was too hungry to resist. One slow step at a time, she made her way into the light. Her fur was wet, her skin near frozen, her tongue dry. Snow clumped on her paws. Her tail curled around her back legs, and she sank to her stomach again, growling.

The meat stayed put. Nothing rushed at her. She gulped the food, hot down her throat and into her stomach.

That low sound again. It came from far away. She turned toward it and stumbled. She hurt. She was tired of running. It was warm there, and dry.

She settled.

She slept.

*

I wake up snarling and tear my way free of the heavy weight holding me down. Fabric tears and I’m surrounded by a puff of feathers. They scratch at me as they fall, and I sneeze once, then twice.

“Alpha,” a low voice croons. I perk up at that. I’ve shifted back to a human body. I can’t remember when or why or where I am. This place smells good, meat and -- I don’t know. It fills my nose now. I shake my head, but I can’t get rid of it.

“Alpha.” That same low voice, closer now. I see him, finally, coming closer. He carries a mug of something steaming and meat so hot I hear it sizzle.

I’m in a bed. That is food and drink. And he is an omega.

He comes close, and a snarl curls my lips. He looks down and away, showing me the side of his throat. His pulse races. I can smell him stronger now, sweat. Fear.

He sets the food down on the edge of the bed. Eases away. Doesn’t turn his back on me. I watch him go until he is all the way across the room, then grab the meat. It stings my fingers. I shove it in my mouth. Chew fast, eyes on him. Swallow. Gulp the next bite.

He drinks and keeps his eyes down and faces me, always.

*

Hot metal sliced into her side. She yelped. Staggered. tore into the nearest thing to her. Not the man who carried the metal. His beast. Skin split, blood drenched her muzzle. A hard kick to the side. Ribs cracked.

She skittered away. Turned tail. Ran.

*

I am warm and full. The omega does not move much, and when he does, every step is slow and careful. I curl in the mess of the bed and watch him. He looks at me only from the corner of his eye. The smell of his fear fades. He sweats, but it is a clean scent. Stronger when he feeds the fire. The room is hot now, but I have been cold too long. I crave the heat.

“Are you hungry again?” he asks sometime later.

A growl rumbles through me. This time, he doesn’t show his throat or back away. He watches me, head cocked to one side. I should recognize that expression, I think, but I do not. Or I did once, but not any more. I’m not certain.

“You are,” he says and gives a little nod. He goes to the stove, adds more wood. Gathers meat. I can smell the cold on it, and old blood. It doesn’t smell right. Soon, it sizzles, and good smells fill the cabin. He brings the meat to me again. Sets it on the bed again. Draws back without turning away from me.

He has meat too, this time. He sits on a stool not too far away. Watches me. Doesn’t touch his food.

I narrow my eyes, shift my weight until I’m crouched, muscles coiled tight. The meat is mine. I can be at his throat in one leap. He could be dead in one bite.

Something inside me quavers at the thought of hurting him. He is omega. I am alpha.

I do not know what that means. I am warm, and I am hungry. Hot food. A safe place to sleep. That is what I want.

I grab the meat. Tear off a large bite, so much it nearly doesn’t fit my mouth. Chew hard and fast as I stare a challenge.

He lowers his eyes. Takes small bites of his food. Does not show me his throat.

I finish first. He stops eating. Watches me sidelong again. There is meat left in front of him. I could take it. I should. I haven’t had enough meat in a long time. But my belly is full now, and my ribs ache. I do not want to fight him.

He would show his belly, I think, but I do not want to make him do that either.

I settle back onto the bed. Curl up against the wall in a nest of torn blankets and shredded pillows.

He eats again, each bite small and slow. Watches me without looking straight on. Adds more wood to the fire.

I am warm, and I am full, and I am sore. He goes to a chair in the corner near the stove. It moves when he sits, creaks back and forth. It is a quiet noise beneath the crackle of burning wood. I sink down into the bed, keeping my soft belly and throat protected.

He rocks and sips a drink. The room smells of him, calm, sweating.

This time, I let myself sleep. I will hear him move.

*

The room stank of old blood and shit. She shivered in a corner. Waited. It was her rut soon, and they would come for her. Take her into the cold dark. Lock her away. They thought she was beaten down, drugged into stillness. She let her shoulders sag, her head loll.

They did not expect her to fight.

They did not expect her to scramble over the fence, moving faster when the barb wire tore her open. They did not expect her to shift and run.

They did not understand how desperate she was to be free.

*

I wake howling. There is something warm and breathing bent over me. I snarl, swipe out with one hand, fingers curled into claws. A yelp, but the something doesn’t move away. I suck in air, and catch his scent. Omega. Bloody. Not safe.

He yelps again when I grab him and drag him into the bed. Shove myself over him so that he is against the wall and I am between him and everything else. I shuffle back into him, pinning his body.

We stay like that for a long time. He relaxes into me, but I am steady. I was hunted, and I am here. They might hunt me still. They cannot have the omega.

After awhile, he curls up against my back. He is warm, and he is quiet. He dozes. Makes little noises in his sleep. Dreams of running, the way his body twitches.

The fire burns low and the cabin dark. I stare at the door. It is closed. It is heavy. But I remember them, the gunshot, the escape. They rode me down with horses, but I fought. They wanted me back. I don’t know why. I don’t remember.

The omega moves behind me, awake now. Starts to get up. I growl, swipe at him. No claws this time, fingers soft.

“Alpha,” he says. He touches my back. His hand is hot against my bare skin. I grew cold without noticing. “I have to stoke the fire.” He shakes against me. “We’ll get too cold.”

He does not feel cold.

I sit up. He climbs past me, but I stand when he does. Pace him across the room. Stand between him and the door.

He looks at me. Makes a little huffing sound. A laugh. Adds wood to the fire. Cooks meat. I eat it standing up, staring at the door.

He cleans up after. When he is done, more wood on the fire, I herd him back to the bed.

“I’m safe here,” he tells me, but does not fight. Tugs at the torn blankets and sighs, but climbs into the nest I’ve made. I crowd him into the wall again. He curls up, puts his face against my back. He sleeps again, easy, his breath slow and steady across my skin.

I keep watch for a long time. My eyes burn. My ribs ache from how tense I hold myself.

I blink. Again, slower. I will hear if someone comes through the door. The windows are covered. The room is warm, and he smells good. My belly is full.

I shuffle closer to the omega. I sleep.

We go on like this for days. He cooks. I keep watch. Stalk around the cabin. His den. Rub my scent at the windows and the door: An alpha is here. She will fight. She is strong.

I will put teeth and claws into any threat. The omega smells calm. No fear. I will keep him safe.

He sleeps behind me. Each time, I am able to rest sooner and sooner.

On the fifth day, after we have eaten, he looks at me. “I need a bath,” he says. “And you should, too.” He eyes the bed again. “Different bedding.” His voice takes on a tone I don’t like. Something is wrong.

I go to him quickly. Snuffle his hair. He is not hurt.

He lets me for a moment, then bats at me. Gentle. Not a challenge.

“Bath,” he says and goes into the next room. I follow. The room is empty. There are no windows. I have not let anything inside to go through the one door. He is safe, and I can protect him there.

The room is narrow but long. It is where I have gone to relieve myself. The other end has a large tub. He runs water. It is loud, and I put myself at the door so I can see into the big room. So I can see if something comes for him.

He adds something to the water that makes it smell sweet. Steam fills the room. I am dirty. I did not realize before. Sweat and blood on my skin. Grease on my fingers and my chin.

He beckons me over. “Test the water,” he says. “It might be too hot for me.”

I frown. He looks at me, serene and patient. I look back several times, but nothing comes through the front door. His den is safe. I touch the water. It is hot, and it feels good. I push my hand down into it until it reaches my shoulder. My muscles relax almost immediately.

“You should go first,” he tells me. He moves around to the other side of the tub. There is space between it and the wall. “I’ll be here.” I look at him, then back at the front door. I will still be between him and any danger.

He waits. Hums a little.

I climb into the water. Sink down until it reaches my chin. The heat makes my ribs throb. They are almost healed. I sit like that for a long time. The water cools.

When it is lukewarm, the omega moves. He touches my arm, his movements slow. I can see him coming.

“Let me wash your hair,” he says.

It takes me many long moments to remember what that means. I would have to close my eyes. I would leave us vulnerable.

“Please,” he adds.

It is what he wants. What he wants is what I want to give him.

I dunk my head under water, come back up fast. It stings my eyes, but I stare at the doorway.

He uses soap on me that smells like the trees. His fingers feel good, pressing hard against my scalp. He works through my hair, then continues down my body. His touch is firm even though I snap when he finds painful spots.

The water is cool when he’s done, and I’m rinsed clean. He gives me a towel when I emerge from the water. I rub it rough across my skin, back in the doorway, staring at the front door. He runs more water. He bathes. I turn only once, when he makes a low, please noise. His head lolls back, water dripping down his throat. He sees me looking but does not curve in on himself, does not protect the soft, vulnerable pieces of his body.

He takes his time in the water and then drying himself after. We move into the main room, naked. I stay between him and the door, but it feels like I move exactly where he wants me. He adds even more wood to the fire, and warmth fills the room.

“Come help me,” he says. I stare at the door, torn, but then cross the room. He has me lift the mattress while he puts new bedding on it. Adds the torn nest I made to a box of other fabric. “I’ll make something new from it.”

He cooks. We sit on the edge of the bed to eat. The meat fills my stomach. There is more to it this time. Something that tastes earthy and a little sweet. Carrots, I remember, and then I think of many vegetables. Human things to eat.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened to you,” he tells me. He touches my arm. “But you can.”

It is too many words. I lean into him. I want to push him against the wall, keep him safe, but this is nice. He is safe like this. I will keep him safe.

*

She mounted the body in front of her. Her thoughts were gone, not just to rut but to all the things they did to her. She couldn’t find the hole. They had to guide her. When her clit touched wet warmth, she thrust, body hunching. It was over fast. She spurted and knotted. Collapsed on the body. They waited until her knot went down before they pulled her away. Put her back in the box. It was big enough for her to stand, to curl up, to run in small circles, but it was a box.

Her brain was mush. Her body broken.

Deep inside, a spark still burned.

*

I wake to heat smell and the omega rubbing against my thigh. He is wet. He has been holding back awhile. That is the scent I’ve been catching, but did not recognize, not without the drugs filling it.

“Alpha,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know why he’s sorry. My clit thickens, blood rushing to it. He moans and rocks against me. My scent has changed, and of course he noticed. I am not in actual rut, but the smell of him makes my body throb. Sympathetic rut. He needs bred, and my body knows it.

I breathe in deep, holding the scent of him. I want him. My body angles toward him.

I throw myself from the nest and don’t stop moving until my back hits the door. He sits up in bed, naked, watching me with wide, dark eyes.

The door is rough against my skin. I should flee into the woods, shift, and run as far and fast as I can.

My hand convulses against the door handle. My nails gouge the wood. The omega watches me, and smells like need. My head spins.

“Help me, alpha,” he says. “Please.”

I approach him slowly, pacing one way and the other as I go. Finally I reach the bed and its nest and his warm body.

He holds his hands up to me. I let him take mine. Let him tug me down onto the blankets. Let him press a light kiss to my shoulder. Then another, higher. Then another, almost at my throat.

The scent of him surrounds me. My body shakes. He clutches at me, mouths my skin, his tongue warm and wet. He’s already slick and ready. I can smell it. I can feel it when he slides a leg over me and settles in my lap.

He scoots in, resting his head against my shoulder. Rubs himself along my clit, leaving me soaked and hot. A growl twists low in my throat. He whines in response, high and needy, and squirms against me again.

I snap, control gone. Sweep him into my arms and flip us. Shove his face down into the blankets. Jerk his hips up, knock his knees apart. His thighs are wet. He smells even stronger here, even more ready. My clit twitches and throbs.

He mumbles something into the blankets, but I’m too far gone to listen. I grab his hips, hold him at just the right angle, and drive myself inside. He yowls, so loud it’s only party muffled. I make a noise back, something rough and unsteady.

His hips jerk beneath my hands as he lifts his ass higher. As he presents to me.

I fuck him hard and deep, driving in as far as he can take me with each thrust. I go a little farther each time, until I’m fully inside, my pelvis flush with his ass. He squirms and whines. The way he clamps down on me, squeezing me, makes me shudder. Makes me want to howl.

His back is a long line before me. I press against it, brace myself, and snap my hips forward. The wet slap of our bodies runs in counterpoint to his high noises, to my growling. My knot aches as it starts to grow.

“Please,” he whines and thrusts back at me, arching further. “I can take it.”

He’s small. I’m big, and my knot bigger.

It’s what he wants. It’s what I want to give him.

His body is tight, keeping me out. I grind against him harder and harder. He gushes, wetting me, and that gives me a little more leeway. I lower my head, grab the back of his neck in my teeth. He keens, and I bite down. My knot pops inside, tying me to him.

He clamps down on me harder still. His taste fills my mouth, his smell my nose, his warmth every other part of me. I thrust, short jerks now that my knot’s inside. I come, filling him up. He whimpers and trembles, and then he comes too, shaking. His body eats me up, pulsing, drawing me deeper, preparing him to be bred.

We stay like that awhile. My knot goes down slow. He doesn’t seem to mind. I don’t, not when I’m inside him, not when he’s warm and soft and delicious. I stroke his hair, rub his back, lick over the mark I left.

Finally, I can pull out. Some come dribbles from him, too, but most of it stays inside where he needs it. Where he wants it.

He rolls over. He’s coated in sweat, and so am I. He pulls me down on top of him anyway. Tucks his face against my throat. I can feel him scenting me. I wrap my arms around him, make sure he’s between me and the wall. He dozes. I listen, hard, for anything coming toward us.

*

She knotted and slept, fought and fucked. Found her scattered thoughts, a little. Braced herself. Looked and hid and planned to run.

*

Much later, I add wood to the fire. Heat up food, feed him the meat with my fingers. He licks them clean after. I mount him again, slower this time. He comes twice on my clit before I knot him. I lick him later, tasting myself inside him, tasting him, slick with both of us.

My stomach is full, my omega well cared for. It is warm, and he is safe. I settle against him, let him curl against my back. I keep my eyes on the door until I finally fall asleep.

I wake to him climbing on top of me, rubbing against me, marking me with his slickness, the heady scent of heat. He rides my clit. It’s harder to knot him this way, but we manage. He kisses my face over and over while we wait for it to go down.

They have not come for me yet. Maybe they will. If they do, I will be ready.

His heat passes four days later.

“I’m William,” he tells me. We’re curled together in a nest of blankets that smells like us. I roll onto my back. I laugh. It feels strange and sounds rusty. It makes him smile. “What’s your name?”

I shake my head. I must have had a name once, but I don’t remember. There is little I do. Flashes from the box and all they did to me. Nothing before that. Maybe I was always in the box until I broke free.

He looks at me. His eyes are soft. His mouth turns down. I want to kiss him and make him stop looking sad, so I do.

“I will call you Mara,” he decides.

Mara.

I think about it, then nod. We go to bathe, to restock the wood box, to eat a full meal and not whatever I can warm fast and gulp down between knots.

He talks about what we need to do. Chop wood. Hunt. Spring is coming, and he wants help with his garden.

I listen and nod. I can hunt. I do not know the other things, but I will learn. He doesn’t ask me to stay. I am here. I have William to protect, and a cabin. I have food to find. I have many new things ahead of me.

William smiles at me, and kisses me, and goes outside to chop wood. I keep in front of him, so close he nearly trips. No one will hurt him here. They will not find us, and if they do, they will not take him. They will not take me.

I have a name, and a home. I will fight any who challenge it. I will tear out their throats.

“Mara,” William calls and holds out the ax. “Come help me.”

I go to him. I will always go to him.


End file.
